Will you be my Valentine?
by Mettatonsex
Summary: 'You...are crying.' 'If this is what 'love' is to be defined as, why was I brought here just to be humiliated? Tortured' A short Mr.L X Dimentio story, with mentions of Blumiere/Lady Timpani. Why doesn't he want to remove his porcelain mask? And what happens when he does? Brief lemon, rated M for mature,


**Inspired by 'a rose for my valentine' by Spacedimentio.**

_

"What do we do on Valentine's Day?"

February the 14th, a day of love, a day of war, questions to be raised. _Who loves me? What even is love? Why is it so cruel, and isn't romance jus__t for fools?_

Things were neat back at castle Bleck- too calm in fact. Evidently, the heroes hadn't visited in a while, the group left to themselves for free time. Though, free time was to be taken advantage of. All of them moping around lazily, waiting for something to happen. to spark courage and miniscule motivation. And Count? Every passing minute asked him; _is this all worth it?_

Not a soul mentioned the day to their Count, in fear of him ripping open their chests and removing the heart that sat there. The only humane trait they had left.

Just another mere example of foolishness, purely a façade.

_I mean, they're all going to die anyway._

Dimentio had no idea of the day, that was until he peaked into Mimi's diary. The jester wasn't one for complimentary gestures and lovey-dovey fluff, he was more of a _rock it and roll it _guy. The fact being, he'd never felt what it was like to be loved. Soon after meeting with his new companion, Mr. L, he'd felt his human touch. The warmth of it and the feel, it made him wonder about all the ways he'd get to experience intimate contact with another human being. The thought was enough to get the clown excited, but what was this? He'd never felt anything sexually, or romantically for that matter. There was just a voice inside of him, _touch with hatred, not love._

Mr.L, on the other hand, didn't care. He was so invested into his Brobot that the others started making lewd jokes about the two. For he did not call for, but it didn't bother him too much. He had duty, as he'd been told by everyone else. _Serve for the count._ Evidently, the last thing he'd need was a special someone to get in his way. To distract him, that is.

Nastasia and Mimi also had a thing or two for Bleck. Mainly just Nastasia, truth be told. Mimi saw the Count as nothing more than handsome, not taking account of him personally. However, Nastasia always felt she had a connection with him. Always thinking of herself as more than just _the assistant. The friend._ In the past, she'd slide subtle hints along when the two were alone.

'_I do admire your work, and I look up to you.'_

_'I don't think you're a burden... to me you're perfect, Count.'_

_'Me? No, I don't have other things to be doing. I'm here to serve you and I want to keep you company...K?'_

Of course, she kept her mouth closed about this. Especially to Mimi, knowing she'd probably write it in her diary, and then Dimentio would get a hold of it. Even if Bleck found out, she knew somewhere inside of her that he wouldn't care. His only love is gone, gone forever. He'd brush her feeling off from his shoulder, only to focus on more important things. That was something she'd have to live with.

~*~

"Well, I suppose that depends. Do you have a valentine?" Mimi asks, placing a playing card on the floor, her well-done pigtails dangling beside her.

"No, I don't." Mr.L adds casually, observing his own cards.

"I'm sorry, you'll find someone!"

"Do not pity me, I am independant, weak with the disturbance of a _rat _in my way." L scoffs.

"How so?" Her eyes raised towards him in a genuine manner.

A soft sound escapes his lips, he shakes his head at her, his hands lowering, words thumbling from his memory, a distinct blur invading. "Why would I? Relationships are for idiots with immense amounts of free time. They only end in pain."

"That's one way to look at it..." Mimi mutters, peeking at L's cards.

"Cheater!" The green thunder throws the deck across the room, his arms folding together in contrary.

Something hard from behind clutches onto Mr.L's shoulders, making him gasp. "Now, don't be so foolish, the girl could see your cards from a mile away!~ _Ah ha ha ha!_" The boy yanks himself away, turning his head. "Oh. Dimentio, it's just you..." He murmurs under his breath, staring at his crooked, porcelain mask.

Mimi grunts, pulling herself up steadily. "We talked about this! Stop coming in my room whenever you please, the door's closed for a reason!"

Dimentio sits himself smugly on her soft bed, the mattress springing him up a little. "Yes, but I do not care, my dear child."

"CHILD?" Her eyes flaring with a fulfilling rage. Soon enough, L walks over to the two of them. "What is it of your bidding, Dimentio?"

"It's not what I yern for. My, my, you do seem to be slacking lately! The shag under your nose screams out, I'll say." An evil grin pressed against the Jester's mask as his snarky comment crawls up into the other's nostrils.

"But what? You're saying I don't shave? Absolutely do I know what this is. You're just here to wind me up. I won't have any of this. Who are you to mess with me, _The Green Thunder?" _His round nose scrunching up and twitching ever so slightly.

"Simply, this is not a wind up. You haven't touched the Brobot for four days."

"And?" L snaps back viciously.

"The Count wouldn't be happy to find that out, would he now?~ For you do not know when the heroes will return for their next duel. We mustn't waste time."

"I'll do what I want when I please... but..." Mr.L's eyes lower to the ground. "I suppose today would be a good day to get started."

"Excellent!~" The jester softly, but enthusiastically claps.

Back downstairs, the moustachioed villain walks through with a tool wrenched in his left hand, a book in his other. "I've been reading a lot lately, but yet I seem to forget everything the next day, for even the chapter title doesn't ring a bell."

_Serious case of brainwashing, huh?_

"Some have a good photographic memory, some do not. Fret not, Green. What is it of your fixing?" Dimentio hovers over Brobot, observing all its' minor details.

"It's not broken, I'd suppose it had just need a little work. I need it to be strong."

"Strong, you say?" The jester rustles through the closet to the right of him, cradling metal parts in his hands. "These will be of assistance!" Dropping them carelessly to the floor, he stares at L with a broad smile.

"...Thanks." The man in green picks a piece up, a rusty old tool and lowers himself to the floor, looking up at his robot. "Why are you helping me? I thought you hate this stuff." _I thought you hated me._

"Today is just another passing day, ever so boring. Is it not?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Dimentio leans against Brobot, gazing avidly at Mr.L beneath. "Do you know what day today is?"

"Tuesday."

"Specifically."

"Tuesday the fourteenth? Look, would you mind getting OFF of Brobot and passing me a screw. Make yourself useful, _servant._" A clear irritation shown on L's face. Dimentio lowers to the ground, standing on both feet. His hand reaches to the toolbox, searching for his item. "Why do you ask?" Mr.L cocks an eyebrow.

"Today is Valentine's Day. Yet you do seem to be a lone wolf!~ _Ha ha ha ah!_" The jester hands him a couple of screws.

"So? What about you, _Jester?_ Where's your valentine? Supposedly trapped in another dimention of yours, or truly envying your presence. Not for me, I'm free at will, _I'm the green thunder._"

"Your ego is bulging today, is it not?"

"So is the package in your pants." L kneels to tighten some of the loose screws on his Brobot, glaring at the unclear blush recieved from his friend.

Dimentio slightly snarls at him, the redness on his face fading. "What's a jester without their jest, Hmm."

"You'd think that ugly poncho of yours would be able to cover yourself, wouldn't you?"

"Ugly?!" Dimentio snaps.

"You should let me pick you something more suitable. Yes, it is known I'm a man of fashion."

The clown lets out a laugh, looking him up and down. "The cloth on you sits utterly ridiculous! I'll decline."

"Say, what's under that mask of yours?"

A silence sits, Dimentio facing the ceiling above. "Nothing for your eyes, L."

"Hmph." He responds agitated, pulling himself up by the counter. "I smell insecurity, how upsetting." The Green Thunder teases, tugging at the Jester's purple collar, pulling him in closer.

"That I would say, perhaps I'm the complete opposite..."

"Your skin is covered head to toe."

"It's fashionable."

The two of them share a brief moment of eye contact, gazing at eachother before Mr.L wanders over to the dirty window, stretching himself out. "Am I not trustworthy?" The man quieres, glaring at Dimentio.

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's _nothing_. Hear, hear, Green. This mask stays on at all times. You do not ask of me again, and certainly not this. Understood?" The Jester's stingy voice like lightning through his head. L only lets out a scoff, watching the other disappear.

_Childish. It's just. A mask._

~*~

Subsequently, the man in black wastes the rest of his day reading dusty, unhelpful books from the very back of the library; maybe he was even pretending to read them, he'd not payed much attention. It was no use. All he could think about was his mysterious friend. The mask. What was it about this mask? That very thing that pushed the two away from eachother. Perhaps there was nothing more to it, there was only a blank face beneath the porcelain that rests on his face. _Literally, a blank face._ The thought was disturbing.

L's head now slumps against his bedroom wall, watching the tick of the clock. _I wonder._..

A subtle knock is heard on the outside of his door. Pondering over to open it, he glances at the cracked mirror upon the painted wall, slicking his hair back carefully. Once he's fully satisfied, he opens, a cold stare given from his partner in crime.

"Dimentio."

Reaching behind his back, the jester holds something perculiar, a devilish smirk forming on his face. Mr.L grabs his gloved hand, and hastily pulls him in shutting the door. "This will be so much fun, indeed." His laugh echoing at the back of his mind.

Every week, Dimentio would watch the others closely, observing their every movement. When someone would leave for a while, that was his chance to see _the other side_. Or in other words, he would read their diaries. It was like a game. Unfortunately, Mimi caught onto this and kept two- a fake under her pillow and the real in her drawer. In some cases, she'd hide it real good and it would take some time, digging around endlessly. Regardless, he'd end up finding it sooner or later.

Giggling, they both sit on Green's bed. Mercilessly, the masked man pulls out his item. It was strange looking. This time, the book was rather large, with a clean, smooth cover with added delicate pages that were yet to be touched. "What is this?" Mr.L innocently questions.

"None other than a Diary. _Count's diary!~"_ The grin brighter than before.

A gulp of nothingness is swallowed deeply in L, something engulfed like a ball of fear. "This isn't such of a good idea, perhaps the worst one we've had."

"Oh, it isn't?" The jester mockingly opens the contents of the book, his finger pressed to the very first page. "How truly awful of me! Must I be punished. Hush now, I'll give us a little preview."

_January 1st._

_For it has been years since I've heard that name. That voice. Seen her beautiful smile, a glow in her unique eyes. I'd always told her she was beautiful, different, someone I needed. Yet, I seem to be alone. Trapped. __An ongoing loop of despair. The hole that digs deep is almost at its very end, I promise. I'm sure of it. This will be the last New Year. The last year. The last everything. She could've been here, standing next to me. Everything hurts._

With a frown, Mr.L averts his gaze to his leather shoes, picking at them stressfully. "We shouldn't do this, it's not right. What if the Count finds out? Then what?"

"Oh! Pity!" Dimentio sarcastically plays, chuckling for a moment.

"I mean it, Dimentio! Give me that!" Reaching over, the man clutches onto the book firmly, pulling at it.

"You are quite an interesting one, L. What if we make a deal?~" His hands not resisting to the other one's strength.

"What? No. You're always trying to get me into trouble."

"How about..." Snatching the book from his grip, the jester places it on the fluffed, black pillow next to them, leaning forwards. His face is parted from Mr.L's by an inch, recieving a wide eyed review, eyebrows furrowed. In a second, his mask is removed.

"You wanted to see _it_. Now we're truce." Dimentio is almost hesitant with this last sentence, as he was now. His bold bright eyes viewing all directions. On his left eye sat a vivid yellow iris surrounding a deep black pupil, the sight was radiant, a ball of fire. His right eye, however, was fully black. No iris, no pupil, just engulfed in a void like an endless night. Beneath this his skin was deathly pale, the coldness of it radiating. All around were tremendous scars, some deeper than others. It was hard to see his true form. _Everything was so incredibly repungent, yet it was beautiful in__ a way he couldn't describe__, a feeling of deformity emitting._

Mr.L struggles to speak, his tremulous voice apparent. "Oh."

"Perhaps now you'll think twice before bothering me." The jester's wobbly voice replaced by the clearing of his throat. He reaches for the mask, placing it back on his wrecked ship of a face. His insecurities get to the best of him, a side that not even The Green Thunder had taken a chance to look at. "It's like makeup. But for jesters."

"You...Your face..." Mr.L opens his beak to speak, only to get interrupted.

"Now then. Let us get back to our top secret mission, my companion. _Ah ha ha ha!_" From that, D grabs Count's diary, relentlessly turning to the most recent page.

_February 14th._

_I might never learn to love again. I wonder where is she. Under deep ground or by that tree? Every living creature, every passing bug, has anyone felt the pain I endure? Wrenching at my heart, is it even there anymore? Her gleaming smile, her soft touch. It's gone. It's done._ _And for I would gladly murder my--_

_"_What does that last part say?" Mr.L's eyes squinting.

"I do not know. It's quite..."

"Stupid! I can't read this."

Dimentio, eager to read more, flicks the page with the tip of his thumb, only to be interrupted by a familiar yelling beyond them.

"Ey' 'aven't touched ya' belongings, Count! Swear on me' only life!"

_O'chunks._

"Gah..." Dimentio utters, glaring at the thick book before him. "Perhaps we'll continue later! Ciao~"

"HEY!" Clutching on to the jester's poncho, the two of them are within a bright, blinding light like a moth to a flame. Before The Green Thunder knew it, he was supposedly dragged along with the other to a strange place.

"Welcome to Dimension D! A creation of my very own."

_How dull, _he thought to himself, observing his surroundings silently. It was all ever so vague. The walls, ceiling and floor painted_ green_, but it wasn't an apple green, it was a depressing pickle colour peeling by the minute.

At the very end fell an old, beat mattress.

"Dimension D?" _This place is a shack of some sort, I'll say._

"Correct, _ah ha ah ha ha._ Sometimes I store things in here, people even. But they end up gone sooner or later, _pity really."_

Dimentio sprawls up, spinning a little, noticing the distinct glare his friend gives.

"What's with that mattress over there? It looks utterly filthy." Mr.L claims, stepping forwards.

No reply.

"It's a pigsty."

_Nothing._

"You know, my room might be a mess, but I do know a thing or two of decor."

"Is that so?" The jester quieres.

"Sure. Just get some pictures, frame 'em, put a few plants here and there... and the mattress, well, perhaps some new furniture would be of use."

"No. The mattress stays."

Around them, the lights start to become noticeably dimmer, a strange, black moss seeping through corners of the walls.

"I have a headache..." Dimentio's left hand arising to the top of his mask. "I need to rest."

A subtle, "Oh", leaves Mr.L's mouth, watching the clown's fatigue loosen. Dimentio now walks over to the stained mattress, a pulsing pain through his limbs. He almost throws himself down onto the material, curling up into a ball.

"And... you... should I leave...?" Green's voice unsure of what to do.

"Leave. Stay. Keep me company. I don't care. Just let me be for so."

But out of the ordinary, The Green Thunder takes an unsteady seat next to his friend, despite having ranted for so long about his bed.

"This isn't ideal. Though I can't complain about the peace of this place. It's quiet. I like that." Dreamily, L averts his gaze to the now-pouting jester.

"Quiet? Quiet?", "You don't hear that?"

"Hmm, hear what?"

_The voices, the bells, the fountain. _"Doesn't matter. I'm hearing things you know, hallucinations."

"You _must _be tired."

At those last words, Dimentio flinches, grabbing the edge of the patched sponge.

"You are strange, Dimentio."

"But somehow here you sit, like a dog brewing in a car on a summers day."

"Well, I don't have to be here you know."

_Then why are you here?_ "No, you could be out there presumably getting scolded by the Count."

Mr.L chuckles slightly, startled by the sudden hand clutching to his.

"...No, you're right. It's much better here."

A warmth rushes through him as Dimentio's gloved hand squeezes tightly, fingers intertwining with his very own. Moss on the walls start to fade, the room lit up in correlation to the simper pressed against the Jester's face.

"Let's just stay like this for a while."

Shortly after, The man in green pushes the book aside and snuggles up to Dimentio, who felt his immense heart beat by the minute.

"The voices, are they still there?"

"No. They are not." His tone was deceiving, but nevertheless he follows his mental orders.

Reaching over, The Green Thunder lightly wraps his fingers around the camoflauge on D's face. He blinks softly in reply. Finally, the mask is removed, although to come with a flipped fuse, a crack and shattering of glass to be heard from the bulb above, which now spreads across the polished floor.

"Why _aren't _you afraid?"

_I am a monster._ _With nothing but where I had originated._ _To be covered in the bliss of rose petals._

"I think you're beautiful."

_But you're just saying that._

"Different."

_Questionable._

Mr.L continues, his thumb streaking across the scarred cheek belonging to a _broken _man. "I see what you are, and I know your secrets. Your insecurities too." He feels himself being drawn closer. "But even with all that, well, you are interesting for sure."

The moment is shared for that, Dimentio's cracked lips stuttering in the other's presence. He could play this game forever, pretending he is anything but distraught. Collecting deep insecurities, spotting patterns, making sure he's never too distant from everything that ever doubted him. What shaped him to be the showman he presents himself as.

"You know nothing of me. Only of what I reveal."

"That is far from true." The Green Thunder states quaintly. "I know you are one from home, one hiding imperfectly."

"From home? This is to be my home. I am in the very arms of the Count. If I was to guess, maybe you'd be referring to my old life."

For a moment, the boldness of Dimentio's eyes shrivel, dimming into place. The silk of his gloved hands slide frantically over to the deepest, most wretched scar sitting between his left cheek and just below his bagged eye.

"All I feel is loops of horror. I enjoy the feeling of adrenaline, it keeps me sane. Sometimes I can't quite describe what I'm feeling."

"And how would you describe it now?" The man stares blankly at the clown.

"Sadness."

"You sit here with a frown, yet no tears are visible."

"I am all out of cry, for I am unable to cry." The jester firmly says, as the others' hand grabs his bruised chin in a gentle manner.

Before he knew, Dimentio is pulled in sweetly for a kiss. Their lips mould together, moving together with a loving friction, enjoying the taste and pressure given off as a result.

_What is this? What is this I'm feeling? _The clown thought to himself, but was oblivious as his own hand snaked around the back of Mr.L's scalp, removing his cap confidently.

Tufts of delicate, soft hair now rest patiently inbetween his fingers. Hell, he was enjoying this, unmistakeably, they both were.

Green presses himself against Dimentio; soon after crawling on top of him with a devious smirk. The mattress chirps in reply, rusty springs held down by L's hands and the jester's body weight. All of a sudden, the man in Green's fingertips collide with a wetness that drips coldly down him.

"You... are crying."

"If this is what 'love' is to be defined as, why was I brought here to be humiliated? Tortured?"

A beaming smile is shown within Dimentio, outdoing the continuity of despair streaking from his puffy eyes. Their lips clash together once more, the masked man using his tongue like an animal, as it presses against the entrance of the others' mouth, quickly gaining entrance. Light moans are recieved, hot sticky saliva dripping as they part, panting heavily.

"This is... _Ah!"_

A hand is placed teasingly at Dimentio's crotch, sliding firmly up and down. The member that sits tightly becomes more eager, more apparent. _He wants more_.

_Zip_

The jester's black pants are buckled and shimmied down to his knees, a thin sheet of material covering him, the other slithering his hand snakishly in, grabbing a firm grip on his hardened rod.

"_A-ah..._"

His seductive, soft moans are cut off by the sweet tasting kisses placed on his lips. Stroking him with a great force, Dimentio's hand clutches Mr.L's side, digging into him. But before he knew it, a great load is spread across his stomach, dripping to his very bellybutton. "_Ah-ha-ahh...!"_ coos the clown.

_Already?_ Thought Green to himself, trailing small kisses on the jester's neck. Maybe he'd been saving his seed for other things. Dimentio pants for some time, watching his _friend's_ every move. In all, there's a feeling of awkwardness shared between them, but nonetheless they lock mouths again, Dimentio lowly chuckling.

"Perhaps if I had been more aware, your experience would've been improved..." The jester's apologetic, but comedic tone bouncing off. "You are very exciting, L."

"It's my good deed of the day, to make someone feel... pleased. Right?"

"Right."

_Of course it didn't mean anything. It never did. _Dimentio thought for a moment.

"We should clean up and return to our more prized duties."

~*~

"Count Bleck is disappointed with the two of you, so to say..."

Eventually, the two had returned and not mentioned previous events to a soul. Originally, Mr.L took complete responsibility for the disappearance of the Count's diary, which he was frowned upon heavily for. That was until the diary itself was to be found upon Dimentio's bed by Mimi.

Such bad liars.

They both in fact were scolded and given extra chores around the castle. No hesitation, they accepted the punishment and apologised. At first, Bleck questioned why Green had claimed to take his diary, this was however wiped off using the believable, yet stupid excuse of "_Dimentio blackmailed me."_ The next few hours seemed to be hassle, the jester and the boy finishing the list of tasks to be completed. They hadn't really had conversations since, but when they ran into eachother in the halls, a joke was cracked and a smiles were recieved.

In the eyes of Dimentio, the punishment was entirely worth it all. That little event had changed his way of thinking, his closed life. For he felt that someone was listening to his cries of pain, and the thought was soothing. After all, it was rare he'd get to open up about these things. His past, his present, and mere worries for the future.

Mr.L was more than a friend, more than his colleague, he made Dimento feel like someone.

Later that night, Mr.L sits freely in his room which was lit romantically by the moon, the only source of light coming through. His thoughts swirl in an avalanche, crowded with confusion. He's soon startled by a familiar knock and a head poking through.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dimentio grins.

"You are not."

"I'd just come to see... how you were holding up."

The corner's of The Green Thunder's mouth crease, eyeing him._ You big softie. _"I am fine. And yourself?"

"I am tired. Rather tired. So I will head off..."

"Alright. Goodnight, Dimentio."

"Night, Green... and..."

His mask stares blankly at Mr.L, opening his mout shortly.

"Happy Valentines day."


End file.
